The Punisher was already moving before dawn, a shadow among shadows, lying flat behind broken stone and rusted tal as he watched the Stanich family's warehouse through a high-powered scope.
"Left patrol route has three n. Ti from Point A to Point B is five minutes," Frank muttered under his breath, one gloved finger tracing notes in a small notebook. "The guard on the high wall smokes around ten p.m. Window opens for about three seconds."
Frank Castle had once been a Marine special operations instructor. He had had a wife who smiled like sunlight and a daughter who trusted the world without hesitation.
Then a single trip to Miami had destroyed all of that.
His wife and daughter had witnessed a drug deal on the beach.
The deal had involved the Stanich family and a company Frank had only recently learned about, Red Water Security.
The Stanich family responded the way monsters always did when they were seen.
They murdered Frank's wife and daughter and dumped their bodies into the sea.
For a long ti, Frank had waited for them to co ho. He had searched, terrified, until a fishing boat finally discovered the bodies floating offshore.
When he learned what had happened, the hard man who could walk through gunfire without flinching broke down crying like a child.
He did everything by the book after that.
He found the killers. He built a case. He tried to use the law.
And the law failed him.
The Stanich family had political money spread through governnt, military contacts, and mbers of Congress on the payroll. The case collapsed. The real monsters walked free, and Frank Castle was the one left broken.
Worse, the family used its influence to make sure he could no longer serve in the Marines.
Then they sent killers to finish him.
They had no idea what kind of beast they had awakened.
Frank killed the hitn easily.
That was the day he understood that law and justice were not always the sa thing.
So he beca the Punisher.
You are guilty. So you die.
One of the n responsible for his wife and daughter, a bastard nad Franchi, had already been dealt with.
But the family behind him still existed.
Frank never did anything halfway. If he started a job, he finished it. With Franchi already judged, the Stanich family was next.
A family with roots across North and South Arica was not sothing you tore apart in a night. But Frank wasn't interested in speed for its own sake.
He was interested in dismantling them piece by piece until the whole empire collapsed under its own weight.
As a forr combat instructor, he preferred strategy over frenzy. Especially when he did not yet know what he was walking into.
"The water tower at twelve o'clock probably has a sniper," he muttered, marking it down. "That's a priority target."
He kept watching.
Then a Humvee rolled into view.
It pulled up to the warehouse and stopped. Five ard gangsters climbed out.
Then a second Humvee arrived.
Then a third.
Within minutes, the warehouse had gained fifteen more ard n, and the vehicles brought extra hardware with them. More rifles. More heavy firepower.
Frank's expression didn't change.
He knew why.
His attacks over the past few days had cost the Stanich family tens of billions of dollars in losses. For a criminal empire that large, that kind of damage couldn't be ignored. Funding would stall. Political mouths would start complaining. Everyone downstream would feel the pressure.
After his last strike on their Hudson River warehouse, the Stanich family had clearly decided to harden its defenses.
That ant Frank had spent the last several days picking off the smaller groups that clung to the family's power structure while carefully studying the main body of the beast.
He was cautious by nature.
That was one of the reasons the Punisher could kill so many supervillains while remaining only human.
"Need level four body armor or better," Frank said, already revising the plan.
The armor served another purpose too.
It helped conceal the fact that he was no longer mortal.
As long as the shots didn't land on his head, he could afford to let the rest of his body soak up damage. It was a perfect disguise.
"I'm pleased with you, Frank."
A voice spoke from inside the room behind him.
"Only a little longer now. One million sinful souls, and your wife will be brought back."
Drex Valen stood there as if he had always been there.
Frank drew a sharp breath and lowered his head.
"...My god."
He had accepted Drex's brand quickly for one reason.
Drex had promised to resurrect his wife and daughter.
"There's no need to be nervous," Drex said. "I only ca to encourage you."
He had no intention of breaking his word.
He wasn't phisto. He didn't make contracts just to twist them the next morning.
And Frank was fast. Faster than Johnny Blaze, at least in terms of results. Blaze was still wandering around looking for sinful souls. Frank was already cutting through them like a machine.
Through the Soul Stone, Drex could easily seize Frank's wife and daughter's souls back from that singular cosmic force known as Death in this universe. After that, resurrection would be simple.
Keeping his word ant Frank would serve better.
Drex vanished a mont later.
Frank sat on the couch in silence.
His will was strong, absolute in a way that made even divinity hesitate. But no amount of strength could completely erase the softness that remained in a man who had loved a family so deeply. Even a warrior like Frank Castle could be worn down by that kind of grief.
Drex had already chosen his third Rider.
This ti, he turned his attention to Hydra.
A Winter Soldier facility.
The Winter Soldiers were human beings who had been modified and brainwashed.
They were called Winter Soldiers because most of the ti they were kept frozen. They were thawed only when needed for missions, then refrozen afterward to preserve their combat effectiveness for as long as possible.
Honestly, for a group that possessed technology like that, Hydra had absolutely wasted it.
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